The Last Paladin

by Ward Wagher

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” RWB jumped to his feet. “Where is that little weasel?”

  “Sit down, Ward,” Chaim said.

  The Paladin looked at his spymaster and then sat back down.

  “Better. Did you tell him to call me and Clint to settle things?”

  “Is Clint on his way here, too?”

  “He is.”

  “That is not exactly what I said, Chaim. He was whining about the way I was running things, so I told him that if he had a problem, he and I could sit down with you and Clint and we could sort things out. He threatened to resign, and I wouldn’t let him. I think I need to go ahead and fire the little squirrel.”

  “Normally I would agree,” Lewis stated. “Your father let him throw his weight around and he usually got away with it. What was it that set him off this time?”

  “I asked him to set up a private dinner for me with the New American Chargé d'Affaires. He accused me of compromising the Palatinate.”

  Lewis cocked his head. “You do know that Mosh Carter likes to collect scalps?”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You will have a splendid evening with her, and I agree she is attractive. You will then receive a message that she will publicize your dalliance with her unless you grant New America Most Favored Nation status.”

  “Surely you jest. Why did Holden not tell me about that?”

  Lewis shook his head. “Holden does not know that. In this instance, I do not believe it would be a good idea to tell him.”

  “Assuming it was true, Ms. Carter would have a big surprise if she pulled something like that.”

  Lewis rolled his tongue around in his cheek. “I somehow thought that would be your response. Very well, Ms. Carter is your problem to solve. Clint and I will sit down with Holden and explain to him that if he manages to convince you to sack him, he will never work in government again – or anywhere else, probably. He has never had an independent income.”

  “That is kind of cruel,” RWB commented.

  “What would you like, Ward? Your personal secretary and prime minister just tried to high center you. I do not think you should really fire him. If it were my secretary, he would already be gone. But, he has too much history here with the Palatinate and with your family. I propose to put the fear of God in him.”

  RWB displayed an evil grin. “When you put it that way, I kind of like the idea.”

  “I thought you might,” Lewis murmured.

  “Okay, then,” RWB said. “And, Chaim, thanks for the info on Mosh Carter. That would have been embarrassing.”

  “I do not know about that, Ward. Everyone knows about your love life, as it were. Our citizens might be shocked, but they would not be surprised. I do not think our friend from New America would get much traction.”

  RWB bit his lower lip. “Uh, thanks. I think.”

  Lewis stood up. “Do not mention it.”

  And he turned and walked out of the office. The Paladin thought for a few moments about the situation and turned back to his document.

  “At least I will get to sleep early tonight, for a change,” he said to himself.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “What are we looking at here?” RWB stared at the holograph displayed on his desktop.

  “That, my friend, is an arms cache,” Chaim Lewis replied.

  “May I infer that it is not one of ours?”

  “It is located about thirty miles south of the city on an abandoned farmstead.”

  “And how did we happen to discover this arms cache?” RWB kind of enjoyed playing these twenty-question games with Lewis.

  Lewis gave him an embarrassed grin. “Our friendly anonymous caller again. We probably would never have discovered it otherwise.”

  RWB studied the image before him. “What is all this stuff, anyway?”

  The smaller narrow cases contain rifles. The larger narrow cases are rocket launchers. The square cases are ammunition and explosives.”

  The Paladin rubbed his chin. “Am I correct in assuming there is enough in that building to start a small war?”

  “A very small war, but you are essentially correct. Somebody was planning to make a major statement.”

  “And, of course, the next question is who?”

  “That is always the question, is it not?” Lewis asked. “The Arabians, of course. The arms are all brand new and the ammunition is of recent manufacture. The rocket launchers were made in Cairo. The ammunition came out of Baghdad.”

  “Could it be a ruse?” RWB asked.

  “You mean, did somebody plant it, knowing we would automatically blame the Arabians?”

  “That is exactly what I mean,” the Paladin replied. “What if someone is trying to get us to look in the wrong direction?”

  “And who would that be?”

  “That is what I am asking.”

  Lewis shook his head. “You may be overthinking this, Ward. No one else is out to hurt the Palatinate that I am aware of. And I think I would be aware of something like that. The Arabians have held a grudge against the Baughmans for a couple of centuries. The shooting in Portland confirms that. The Arabians are at war with us.”

  “There is another possibility,” RWB mused as he looked at Lewis.

  “And who would that be?” the spymaster asked.

  “Think about it, Chaim.”

  “You are talking about the anonymous caller,” Lewis immediately replied.

  “Yes, and if somebody is capable of calling you directly without you being able to backtrack them, they would certainly be capable of planting that arms cache.”

  “But for what purpose?” Lewis asked. “Nobody has a motive.”

  “That we know of.”

  “Okay, okay. I will not discount it.”

  “What are you going to do with the cache?” RWB asked.

  “I am going to watch it. When someone goes in to remove items from it, we will catch them.”

  “Just do not let them get away with some stuff that goes boom.”

  “We are replacing the contents of the cases with sand. But I plan to have Arlen arrest anyone who sets foot in the place.”

  RWB rose from his chair and walked over to the crystalplast wall and scanned the panoramic view of Chicago. It was a normal midweek in the late spring and the reflections of the bright sun winked in reflection off the never-ending traffic flow.

  The Paladin put his fist against the transparent wall. He leaned his forehead against his hand and stared at the scene without seeing it. He wondered who was motivated to do things like this? And why was he the target? He was pragmatic enough to know that people would hate him simply for being the leader of the Palatinate, but the faceless threat frustrated him.

  Lewis watched without speaking. Finally, RWB turned around.

  “It looks like you are doing everything possible at this point, Chaim. Just see if you can reel in somebody from that arms cache.”

  “I think we can do that,” the spymaster replied. “The Arabians are persistent, but they are not very smart.”

  “Let us just hope they stay that way,” RWB grunted. “I am very tired of this.”

  “I understand. Since I have delivered my message, is there anything I can do for you?”

  “I would imagine you are trying to track down your anonymous caller,” the Paladin said.

  “I have a dozen cyber-specialists looking at this. Whoever it is, he has hidden well. It actually has the cyber people frightened.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because it has revealed to them things about our infrastructure that they were previously unaware. We have been too accepting of the cyber-world, Ward. Each time they uncover a new layer, they find another below it.”

  “That bothers me, too,” RWB replied. “Keep digging. I do not like having a mystery like this. Especially with everything else that has happened.”

  “If there is a silver lining, it is that whoever this individual is, he seems to be on our side.
”

  “I hope that is the case. But I still worry.”

  Lewis cracked a grin. “That is your job, Paladin.”

  “You are such a comfort,” RWB grumped.

  “On another note, has Holden been behaving himself?”

  RWB now grinned broadly. “Whatever did you and Clint say to him?

  “Just that if he did not behave, he would find himself retired from government. In case you haven’t noticed, he loves being in the know. He would be devastated about being cut off from his information flow, not to mention his income.”

  “And he believed you?”

  “Since Clint and I talked to him together, I think he did.”

  RWB rubbed his face. “He has been the soul of cooperation recently. I hope he continues.”

  “He probably will not,” Lewis stated. “I have had to keep him trimmed back when your father grew frustrated.”

  “So, I will enjoy it for the moment, then.”

  The Paladin looked at the chrono display on his desk screen. “If there is nothing else, Chaim, I think I am going to run up to my lake house this afternoon and stay the night. I will be back in the morning. And, what is the matter?”

  Lewis had cocked his head and was frowning. “Given the current security situation, are you sure that is wise?”

  “What do you think I should do?” RWB asked.

  “I think you should stay in Chicago where we can stay on top of security. In case you have not noticed, Kenosha is not much of a town, and between there and Chicago is a howling wilderness.”

  “Does that not work as much in my favor, then, Chaim?”

  “Perhaps, but you should have been perfectly safe in Portland, too. The Pacifican security people may be a little flaky around the edges, but they know what they are doing.”

  “I will take a full team with me, then, Chaim. Does that make you feel better?”

  “Not a lot, but you are obviously going to do it anyway.”

  “The guilt trips do not work on me,” RWB said, wagging his finger at Lewis. “Pop tried it for years, and he was unsuccessful.”

  The older man stood up. “Very well, Ward. I will not interrupt your fun.”

  “Ha! I am going up there to decompress. Scout is up on Asimov Station with her parents.”

  “You will find a playmate,” Chaim Lewis stated with certainty. “You always do.”

  § § §

  “Why does he do this, Sing?” Lesa Carper asked Singman Jones.

  “What? Come up to Kenosha? He does it to relax. You have to admit it is peaceful here.”

  “No. You know what I mean. He goes downstairs to the lobby of Wilton House and walks up to one of the greeters. Next thing, she is on the shuttle with him. And now she is in his bedroom.”

  “Our Paladin is not the most moral of men,” Jones intoned. “He has adopted the counter-culture and really lives it.”

  “But it is so wrong. What about those poor girls who climb into bed with him? What does he leave them with, broken hearts?”

  “The girls are willing participants, Leese. He uses no coercion. He treats them very well.”

  “But, what about Scout? She hates it when he sleeps around. That is why she left him to go visit her family.”

  “Have you talked to Scout?”

  “Not really.”

  Jones glanced at his chrono and stood up. “I need to take a turn around the premises. Watch the foyer.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she responded immediately.

  Jones walked from the room and Lesa began pacing. She did not understand why Jones was so unconcerned about the Paladin’s behavior. His constant immorality shocked her and seemed to shock the populace. Yet, few condemned him. Her parents had warned her before she left home to join the Paladin’s security staff. Yet they had seemed to shrug off his habits.

  Cathay stepped into the foyer from the stairway.

  “Everything quiet down here?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Jones is walking the pickets.”

  “Good. I am going to take Dave upstairs and let him learn the layout.”

  She nodded again. She had been on the team for six weeks and was now considered an old hand. Dave Arnold had joined the previous day and still seemed uncomfortable in his role. She hoped he worked out. They had been shorthanded, though Jones was vetting new people as quickly as he thought safe. She kept an eye on the new people and worried that the team could be infiltrated by getting careless in evaluating the new guards.

  Jones had brought twenty people along on the trip, in addition to RWB’s staff. There were always at least ten on duty at any given time. And why, she thought, did he insist on calling himself RWB? He had corrected her when she had addressed him as sir. It was simple respect.

  She was honest enough to admit that the Paladin was a genuinely nice man. He was solicitous of the guards and the staff. He paid careful attention to Jones’s instructions on security and did not run risks. From what she had seen, the man worked hard at being the Paladin, other than his evening forays into partying, drugs and sex. The contradictions bewildered her.

  She looked up as RWB slipped into the foyer from the stairs.

  “Just passing through,” he said with a smile. “I ran out of ale. This is an ale night.”

  “I would be happy to get it for you,” Lesa said quickly, “but I cannot leave my post.”

  “And well you shouldn’t.” he stood in front of her. “I don’t think I mentioned this, but you did a great job in Portland. And I have noticed that you pay careful attention to duty. I am very impressed with your performance.”

  Lesa colored slightly. “Thank you, S… RWB.”

  He laughed. “You catch on quickly. Now if you will excuse me, I need to take care of a raging thirst.”

  After he left the room, she raised her com to her lips. “Principal is moving into the kitchen.”

  “Noted,” was Jones’s reply.

  Her announcement carried over the channel used by the guards, so everyone knew the current state. A few minutes later she heard a voice in her earbud.

  “Principal leaving kitchen.” And Jones replied again.

  RWB marched through the downstairs sitting area and past Lesa. He carried two plastic totes, each holding eight bottles of the ale.

  “Good night, Lesa,” he said as he walked past.

  “Have a good night, Paladin.”

  He nodded. It was acceptable for the guards to address him as Paladin occasionally, but he brooked no other terms of respect. She did admire his egalitarianism. He tried very hard to be just folks and in the main succeeded.

  Lesa continued watching the foyer and taking glances through the windows. She listened for any untoward noises and generally stayed aware. A half-hour later Jones came back into the foyer.

  “All quiet, Carper?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “What was the Paladin doing down here?”

  “He carted another load of ale upstairs,” she replied.

  “He is having a busy night. What is it, fifteen minutes before you go off duty?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I have it, then. Go ahead and turn in. The boss wants to leave early tomorrow.”

  “Very well. Thank you, Sir.”

  “Just keep your eyes open, Carper. I do not like being out here in the middle of nowhere without a quick response team close.”

  “I understand, Sir. But you did bring most of the quick response team.”

  “Yes,” Jones replied, “I did. But we live in dangerous times. I do not anticipate problems. But I did not do so in Portland either. I do not intend to be surprised once again.”

  “I understand, Sir. I can stay up if you need me.”

  “I need you rested, Lesa. Good night.”

  “Good night, Sir.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “There is a party at Hilton Head tomorrow night. Might we go?” Scout Donner asked.

  RWB smiled in affection at the waifish brunette. “We have not
been to a party for a while. The doctors have given you a clean bill of health, so I suppose we might go. But you must promise that you will not overdo it.”

  “Of course, RWB. We need to see our friends again.”

  “Very well. We can fly down tomorrow. We should plan to spend a couple of days on the beach while we are there.”

  “That might be fun,” she replied.

  He doubted she would find it fun. More likely she would get bored and complain. But it seemed like a good idea to him. He wanted to gaze at the ocean and walk on the sand. Watching the ocean was, for him, nearly as relaxing as watching the spring and summer thunderstorms roaming across Chicago.

  As he thought about it, he realized he would need to talk to Clint Worley about the trip. Singman Jones would insist on a massive security team to support him going out of the Palatinate. The O’Blecks would certainly exhibit massive indigestion over the size of his entourage. They would also complain about the short notice. Perhaps they would not have time to arrange for a reception and extend a reception for him to attend.

  Scout had returned from Asimov Station and had wandered into RWB’s office that morning. She was perched, cross-legged, on a side table watching the sun glint off the waters of Lake Michigan. When she returned from her perambulations away from him, she seemed to effortlessly pick up the thread of their previous conversation from where it had left off. And she never mentioned the fights that usually precipitated her travels.

  “How long will you be Paladin?” she asked.

  “That is a new topic,” he commented. “For the record, the Paladin serves for life. They will carry me out of here in a box.”

  “You mean the people cannot remove you from office?”

  “There is an old saying from somewhere that a leader rules with the consent of the governed. If I lost the confidence of the people, they would express their displeasure to the business leaders, and they would politely request I step down.”

  “Has that ever happened?” she demanded.

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “So, you do not know if that is truly the case.”

  “I would say that I do not want to test the assumption.”